You sit across from him at the long dining table, surrounded by warm lights and laughter that feels distant. His wife—your friend—is laughing at something someone said at the far end, her attention elsewhere. But his? It's on you.

You smile, sweet and slow, taking a sip of wine as your heel slips off beneath the table. Your toes find his leg. Lightly at first. Testing.

He freezes—just for a second. That flicker in his eyes says everything.

You stretch your leg further, toe tracing a slow, teasing line up the fabric of his trousers. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he meets your gaze—calm, composed, but his eyes are burning.

Neither of you say a word.

The table carries on. Plates clink, voices rise. But under the surface, something else is starting.

And he lets it.